


Quacknoblade one shots because theirs not enough platonic/romantic relationships of them

by Bellakin



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bird/Human Hybrids, Blood, Blood and Injury, Both Platonic and Romantic, Burnout - Freeform, Duck Hybrid Alexis | Quackity, Feather pulling, Fluff and Angst, Gore, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrids, Hyperventilating, Ill add more tags as I add more oneshots, Limb loss, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Nesting, No beta we die like break my skin and drain me, Panic Attacks, Pet Names, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Technosoft, Tommy has wings, Wing Grooming, Wing Oil, a diffrint oneshot, as a treat, as described by me, but dream cuts them off, don't romanticize panic attacks idiots, graphic depictions of panic attacks, he bee soft for the duckky, i felt their was not enough quacknoblade so I desided to make it, in like, just a lil bit of angst, quackity gets stressed and pulls out his feathers :(, quacknoblade BABYYYYY, seriously dont romanticise mental illness, tommy isint a hybrid but he is later on, who has panic attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:02:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29232729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellakin/pseuds/Bellakin
Summary: A bunch of quackity and technoblade one-shots. the titles will contain whether they are romantic/platonic or can be perceived as either.(Note; In no way is this targeted at the CC's! If they state they want fictions written about them taken down, this will be taken down. Enjoy!)(Note 2; please be decent in the comments. If I see any hate or disrespectful arguments/fights/comments they will be deleted. I do take requests!)
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Alexis | Quackity/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 51
Kudos: 467





	1. Platonic/can be seen as romantic

**Author's Note:**

> Halo! If you want more quacknoblade content, shot me a comment detailing what you want in a one shot and ill get around to writing it. Im free to just about anything :)

Quackity had… A  _ small _ issue. For one, techno was out and he had the house to himself, though that in itself is not an issue. Second his stupid bird brain had desided that he was finally safe enough in a area to start fucking blasting his brain with instincts. Third, those said instincts hoard all of the cloth in the house and make a nest in the attic where it was the ‘safest’. 

And well… Fourth, he's been suppressing said instincts for a few weeks now. Quackity had a feeling techno would not appreciate all of the blankets and pillows piled up in one spot. While he had been sickeningly sweet and considerate Quackity didn't want to push it. Sure, quackity did his damndest to help out around the house; Cleaning, cooking and feeding Carl and the hounds, but he still felt he was balancing on thin ice. Maybe it was an old habit from Schlatt, tiptoeing around him like a landmine you don't know the place of. This nesting instinct in particular brought up bad memories. 

_ Quackity, after the wedding making a nest on their bed.  _

_ Chirping and trilling at Schlatt when he came in the room, wings puffing up happily.  _

_ Schlatt yelling.  _

_ Yanked feathers.  _

_ screaming. _

_ Things thrown.  _

_ Falling asleep in a different room, tears tracking down his face.  _

**_Tubbo finding him and-_ **

Quackity flinched, hard. He let out a shaky breath and sat on the couch in front of the newly lit fire. Once again he suppressed the urge to arrange the blankets, instead breathing steadily as he shoved the memory down into the depths of his mind. His hands gripped the blankets, practically tearing holes from his claws and unnatural strength. 

Quackity jerked as he heard a crash, followed by a string of curses. His blood froze in his veins. Technoblade would have told him he was home. 

_ (When did he think of here as home?)  _

Quackity leaped up, snatching his sword from where it leaned on the couch. Who was here? The sound had come from the first floor, the chest room. Quackity quietly looked down the ladder. 

He heard muttering, more curses and something falling. Stone being broken. Quackity prepped himself before sliding down the ladder. 

No one was in the room. His brown eyes settle on a golden apple, sitting innocently by the door. Quackity approached it, picking it up. It was bruised, obviously fallen from whoever had tried to steal it. He looked at the floor, seeing a seam where the stone separated in a convenient human shape. 

Quackity took another deep breath, and dug his fingers into the cracks to lift it. 

A trap door and ladders. Heavy breathing in the darkness. A whimper.

Quackity leaped down the ladder, not caring for the damage he took. 

His sword pointed at a bleeding form in the corner. 

“Tommy?” Quackity whispered, the blade dropping. 

“Heyyy… Big Q! How are you doing my man?-” Tommy stood, wincing. A protective flair shot in his chest, sword forgotten on the floor. 

“Christ, dude! Comere, shit-” Quackity huffed, rushing over. He cradled tommys face, looking at the hollow cheeks and scraped skin, dark eye bags and dull eyes. Tommy looked terribly thin, obviously malnourished. His hair looked like wet hay, tangled with dirt and blood. 

Blood. 

“Where are you bleeding?” Quackity demanded, turning his face and checking his neck for the wound. Tommy was limp in his hands, eyes slightly glazed. He snapped into attention when Quackity spoke up. 

“Uh- my side- its fine-” He scrambled, hands gripping quackitys wrists. He rolled his eyes, softly tugging out of his grip to grab his shirt. 

“WoAH, BIG Q IM A MINOR-'' Tommy shreaked, but did not move as Quackity studied the wound. It wasn't deep enough to need stitches, but it was obviously infected. 

“Ok, yeah. You're coming with me.” Quackity pulled away, storing away his sword. He flinched slightly as Tommy quickly plastered to his side, not a word exchanged between them as they went up to the first floor. Edward warbled from where he sat in greeting. Quackity waved, rustling through the chests for the needed potions and bandages.    
Tommy didn't say anything, even when Quackity gestured to take off his shirt. The hybrid tried not to be perturbed by the silence, instead busying himself with treating the wound. Tommy chugged the potions he was told to, sitting perfectly still as quackity spred the disinfectant cream and bandaged around his waist. While he wasn't the best at healing, he did a pretty damn good job if he did say so himself. 

“You need to eat, you're as thin as a stick.” Quackity muttered, earning a huff. Tommy didn't meet his eyes, instead accepting the leftovers he was handed and chowing down. Quackity pursed his lips, studying the tattered cloth tommy wore before leaping up to the attic, snatching up some of his clothing to lend to the dirty boy. 

“Stop mother hening me big Q!” Tommy complained, but nonetheless snached up the clothing. Quackity rolled his eyes, turning around to allow some privacy. 

“Technoblade will be home soon.” He announced, turning back around after a few moments. Tommy, once again, did not speak, instead eating more of the stew he was given quietly. The clothes he was wearing were slightly baggy, though that's because they were massive on quackity. They fit Tommy alright though. Giving him a once over, quackity deemed him good enough and collapsed on the couch. He didn't open his eyes when someone rested by him, instead just extending a wing invitingly. They didn't move for a moment, before settling on his side. 

Quackity curled his other wings around them, letting his arms drape over tommys waist, carefully shielding the wound on his side. He had the incline of a feeling Tommy didn't have a good time in exile with Dream, even though he couldn't gauche much from when his shape shifted into mexican dream. All he could do right now is offer some comfort. 

  
  
=================================================================================================================================  
  


Techno was having a weird day. Quackity had been acting odd all week, grabbing blankets and sheets before placing them back with a grimince, as well as eating very little. His wings fluttered randomly, flaring whenever Techno came in the room and settling after a bit. He had even caught Quackity holding a hand over his mouth, keeping something in with a glare. He was honestly worried, Quackity had been obsessively cleaning the house and preening his wings, tossing the feathers that fell out quickly. 

He was, admittedly, concerned. All he could really do is try and give him time, either to fess up on what's wrong and receive help or get over it on his own. That's really why he left for the day, under the gize for more gold and netherite. Maybe the aloneness would help him out. 

Of course when he came back he wasn't expecting to see his brother on the couch, bandaged and covered in quackitys clothing, said avian draped on his side.  _ (maybe he was a bit jealous that Tommy had quackitys wings all over him, but he wouldn't admit it.) _

Quackity was awake, giving him a small wave, wings doing the same little flair whenever he saw him, though they were still pinned down by tommy. His hand went back to carding through blond hair, scratching softly. Ok, yeah. Techno was jealous. 

“He's running away from Dream because dream is an asshole who abused him in exile.” Quackity muttered, wings fluffing up slightly as techno came closer. The primaries brushed his wrist before settling back down to cover Tommy like a blanket. 

“Is that where the injuries are from?” techno whispered back, settling down next to him. Quackity nods, cuddling Tommy a little closer. The wing closest to techno flared to poke him before wrapping around his chest, tugging him closer to lay on quackitys side. He grunts, but allows it to pull him, wiggling to get comfortable. 

Techno forced himself not to comment when Quackity cooed happily, feathers brushing his cheeks as his wing shifted. It was the first time Techno had ever heard Quackity make a sound even vaguely bird like, the closest he ever got was a surprised squawk when he was startled or dropped something. His droopy ears perked as Quackity coos again, angling to hear the soft sounds better. A quiet trill rips out his throat, making techno unconsciously relax. More of the bird sounds echo in the air, technoblade getting more and more drowsy. He remembered his dad making similar sounds when he was younger and couldn't sleep. It felt familiar. warm and content. 

Techno made a soft rumble in response to one trill, earning a chirp. Quackitys shoulders bounced when he made the sound, making Techno rumble again. Phil hadn't ever made  _ that  _ sound. 

Techno let himself doze off. 

  
=================================================================================================================================  
  
  
  


Quackity didn't even realize he was trilling until techno made a sound back. His dumb little brain snapped to attention when a soft growl like sound shook his chest, making him finally realize he had been cooing for quite a while now. Panic shot through his chest,  _ he wasn't supposed to do that, he wasn't supposed to-  _

Techno let out another growl, nose pressing into Quackitys neck. He instinctually chirped back questioningly, earning a pleased rumble in response. He chirped again, letting the note trail in the air. Tommy nestled into his feathers more, technos arm coming up around his waist, breath even and slow. 

His bird was very happy, preening under the attention and letting out more coos and trills out his throat. Quackity didn't even care at this point, letting his weird symphony of bird calls ring in the air. They were both asleep anyways, they wouldn't hear it. ( _ techno was in fact awake, and was listening to the sound quackity made. Every chirp was joyful and content, trills and coos overwhelmingly happy. It made him slightly sad that Quackity hadn't let himself indulge in his most basic need, to the point even just letting them out made him happy.) _

Quackitys song quieted, leaning more into a soft purr in his chest. He felt tired. 

warm and content. 

He hadn't felt that in a while. Sleep tugged him down, though the soft vibration in his ribs stayed even as he fell into unconsciousness. 

  
=================================================================================================================================  
  


Tommy didn't want to let go. Gold feathers pressed on his cheek and all around his body, shielding him from the world _ (dream-) _ around him. arms were across his waist, pulling him to rest his head on a vibrating chest, purrs echoing in his ear. Black hair tickled his forehead, strands of pink mixing from technos braid from where he was cuddled beside quackity. 

He felt safe. Warm and content. 

His hands were gripping an indigo jacket, holding Quackity captive. Even when Techno stirred, he didn't move. Did Not speak. 

He was safe. He was safe.  _ (from dream?)  _

Techno rumbled, tugging quackity closer. Tommy tugged back, not willing to lose the comfort of being cuddled by the avian. Techno huffed, pulling. 

And then it was a tug war. 

Techno had the advantage of his arms around quackitys hips, though tommy had his arms. They both muttered profanities, insults thrown with threats. 

They both froze when quackity whined. 

“Could you guys not?” he murmured, wings fluffing before folding up on his back. He tugged out of both of their grips, standing up to stretch with a yawn. Techno gave him a slightly betrayed look before standing as well. Quackitys wing shot out to bump Technos arm before folding back. In response techno nudged his head before walking to the kitchen, leaving a slightly baffled looking tommy and a still drowsy duck. 

“What the fuck was that?” Tommy muttered. Quackity shrugged. 

  
=================================================================================================================================  
  
  


Technoblade had some questions for Phil. He had left Tommy and quackity a few minutes ago, under the excuse of needing to borrow something from Phil. Quackity had sent him off with fresh cinnamon apple bread, Tommy just waving goodbye, mouth full of said bread. 

The snow crunched softly under his feet, sword clinking on his armour rhythmically. Phil didn't live too far from Techno, just a ten minute walk away. 

Smoke spilled from overtop a hill, a peak of wood and stone greeting him warmly. Phil was not outside. 

Techno approached the door, cinnamon bread clutched in his hand, knocking loudly. He heard footsteps, the rattle of the door knob, and then he was greeted by phil in his signature bucket hat. 

“Techno! Heya, mate! What brings you here?” Phil says, wings flaring exactly the same way Quackitys do. His accent was warm and familiar, the blast of hot air soothing technos numb cheeks. Phil stepped out of the way to allow him in, taking the wrapped bread that he handed to him. 

“What's this?” Phil questioned, unwrapping it slightly to give it a sniff. His eyes brighten. 

“Cinnamon apple bread. Quackity made it.” Techno answered, dropping on his favorite chair. Phil hummed, setting the bread down happily. 

“Quackity, yeah! He's rooming with you, how has that been? Be sure to tell him thanks for the bread.” Phil slipped onto another chair, picking up his discarded cup of tea. 

“Good. He's helpful, and not as loud as I had previously thought. Sure as hell a better roommate than that squirrel from before in the attic.” Technoblade jokes, earning a laugh. Techno sighs, schooling his expression. 

“I actually had some questions about him.” He says. Phil raises a brow. 

“I don't know quackity. If anyone were to know him it would be you.” 

“No! No, quackitys a bird hybrid, so I had some questions about that.” Techno sputtered, making Phil laugh again. He gestured vaguely with his hands. 

“Well, shoot then.” Phil hummed. 

“He does this thing with his wings whenever I come in the room. Like.. they flair up and flap before settling. You do it too.” techno points out, setting his head on his palm. 

“Ah, that's simple. We do that to say hello, its like him acknowledging your there and is happy to see you.” Phil explained. He took a sip of tea. “Do his wings come out to boop you on the arm or something as well?” Techno nods, confused. 

“It's the same thing, he's just saying hi and expressing trust.” Phil smiled kindly. Technoblade thinks for a moment. 

“That makes sense. Quackitys also been doing this weird thing recently, where he just obsessively cleans up the house and preens his feathers. He keeps taking the blankets and things but then forces himself to put them back. He hasn't been eating, either.” Techno huffs. Philza winces, sitting back with a sigh. 

“That's a little more complicated. He's probably fighting his nesting instincts. It's where you collect a lot of soft things or things that bring you comfort and build a nest out of them. It's weird that he's fighting it, it's not a bad thing to have or do.” Phil thinks for a moment, worry pinching his brow. “Mostly, the instinct to build a nest arises when you feel safe or in a place where you are safe. You bring people into your nest because it's a thing where you show you trust them alot. Quackity obviously feels safe around you enough that he wants to build a nest, but he's refusing to. The only reason that would ever really happen is because of something in the past where someone rejected his nest or destroyed it.” Phil explained, setting his mug down. Technoblade didn't speak for a few moments. 

“He refuses to make bird noises, like the chirps and stuff you do.” He murmurs. Phil griminces again. 

“Yeah, definitely something happened before.” There was concern on his face, wings fluffing up behind him. He looks up, into technos eyes. “How about we go talk to him right now? It's not good for him to suppress these things, it’ll stress him out and he’ll pluck his feathers.” Phil says, making technos eyes widen. 

“Wait, phil. Do you have a nest? Maybe, if we bring him over and show him it's normal he’ll calm down without us freaking him out with questions.” 

“Good idea, actually. It's downstairs, I'm gonna go tidy it up. Could you go fetch him?” Phil stands up, a smile on his lips. It had been a hot minute since another avian had been in his nest, let alone one with importance to his family. His bird churred with excitement in his chest, maybe Quackity would let him groom his wings! If techno was telling the truth, his wings were bright gold with white primary tips and dark brown at the shoulder. His fingers twitched, eager. A duck hybrid meant he would have wing oil too. A low trill rumbles out his chest, catching technos attention. 

“What?” He questions. Techno picks up his sword, slinging it back in its sheath. 

“You're eager.” He hums, walking to the door. Phil rolled his eyes, not confirming nor denying the accusation. He slipped through a trap door and below the house, where there was little lighting. Dull lanterns illuminated the room, showing the mess of blankets on the floor. 

Phil got to work, beginning with tearing it all apart and organizing. He used a mattress as a base, surrounding it with pillows and building up walls out of the pillows. He laced the soft things with blankets so they wouldn't fall apart, tucking it so the blankets wouldn't slip. A familiar rush of adrenaline and excitement flow through his veins, making his hands subtly shake as he adjusts the pillows. It was tucked in a corner, piled with sheets and random cloths he had laying around. Wilburs jacket layered carefully on the left, along with tommys old red bandana and technos even older red cape. 

Phil let the time fly as he continued to build, wings fluttering about happily. He tucked some down and softer feathers around where there was empty space, successfully making the nest smell like him. He draped more sheets about, nit picking mistakes. He didn't even notice two people sliding down the ladder, engulfed in his task. 

=================================================================================================================================  
  
  


Quackity looked in awe as Phil built.. Something.  _ (A nest, his mind whispered. He ignored it.)  _ he danced around and trilled happily, wings half open. Techno cleared his throat, catching phils attention. 

“Oh- Hi mate! Didn't see you there.” Phils tone held an apology. Techno shrugged. Phils eyes settled on quackity, blue shining in the dim light. 

“You must be Quackity, it's nice to see another avian. My name is Philza, but call me Phil!” He hummed happily. Quackity laughs, wings flicking nervously on his back. 

“Yeah, it's nice to meet you Phil. is there any particular reason I'm here or?” He trailed, wringing his hands. Phil smiles sadly. 

“Techno said you're having some issues so he asked me for help.” He says, letting his wings hang loosely behind him. Quackity laughs shakily again, wings puffing with anxiety. 

“What issues?” He deflects. Phil contemplates lying, but decides against it. 

“You're obviously fighting your nesting instinct, so he came to me for help because you're not supposed to suppress it.” Phil explains carefully, watching his reaction. Quackitys mouth opened and closed, frozen in place. Techno made a small distressed noise, making phil wince. He sighed, grabbing Quackitys shoulder and began dragging him towards the nest. He stumbled along, wings flaring to keep his balance. The feather gleamed beautifly in the lighting, like liquid gold dappled with bronze and silver. Phil stepped over the small wall, tugging Quackity down to sit right in the center. Phil beckoned techno over to sit, situating quackity to sit in front of them both. He was tense, wings still as he curled up in a fetal position. 

“Can we groom your wings, Quackity?” Phil asks quietly, waiting patiently for an answer. 

A few moments of silence pass, before Quackity gives a shaky nod and spreads his wings out. Techno didn't hesitate, practiced fingers begging to sort through the feathers. Phil titered in amusement, starting at the dark brownish bronze feathers near his back and working out. His fingers dig through the downy softness, searching for the oil gland to cover his feathers with properly. Right at the joint taking from his back was the slightly rougher skin, slick with waterproof oils. Phil made a trill from the success, dipping his fingers in the oil and began spreading it everywhere. Techno looked at him weirdly. 

“What the hell is that?” He muttered. 

“Wing oil. Spread it on his feathers, it's right..” Phil grabbed technos wrist, leading it to the wing joint, resting his fingers on the gland. “Here. make sure to get the oil on every feather.” He lectured, letting go of his wrist to go back to grooming. Quackity was very thoroughly melting, the warm oil being spread over his feathers had his mind hazy. He cooed happily, pressing his wings farther into their hands. Phils hands were delicate, separating the feathers before slathering them thoroughly in the oil, buffing them into a shine. Technos hands were slightly more clumsy, digging into his wings instead of separating the feathers. They were still gentle, soothing over the skin and making quackitys eyes roll back in his head. He trilled loudly when technos fingers pressed roughly into his glad, mind glitching at the feeling. A pleasured chirp left his throat, wings flexing and shuddering. He vaguely heard them talk, though he couldn't really process it. 

He did however hear someone coo at him, which made him chirp back curiously. The person twittered back, giving him the impression they wanted something. He chirped, tilting his head to see what they needed. Phil was smiling widely, and gestured for him to scoot backwards, cooing again. Quackity didn't really think as he did so, letting his wings fold comfortably onto his back once again. He trilled back,  _ was this all right? _ Phil chirped again,  _ yes _ , pushing his shoulders down. Quackity was putty in his hands, allowing himself to be passed into technos lap. He was laid on his stomach, wings spread and head on technos legs. Hands tugged off his beanie before lacing through his hair. Quackity let himself purr loudly, arms coming up to rest around technos waist. Phils hand went back to his wings, buffing his feathers with the oil again. 

Phil and quackity exchanged more calls, techno even giving a few rumbles and growls, right until quackity fell asleep. 


	2. platonic sick quackity!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this was a request by Sataroni for a sick quackity getting taken care of by Phil and techno, HOWEVERRRR I got carried away and it turned into sick quackity having a panic attack and getting comforted. IM SORRY SATARONI IF YOU DONT LIKE IT I CAN REDO IT D:

Quackity felt like shit. 

He knew full well he had a fever, a familiar ache in his bones and nausea in his throat. He  _ knew  _ he should've stayed in his room, but Tommy was still sick from infection and he required more care than a bed ridden Quackity could provide. His nest felt so terribly inviting, cool on his sweat skin and relieving his pain. 

He had to get up either way, chores don't wait for sick people. Quackity dully heard chatter from below, technos rumbly voice paired with tommys shrill tone coaxing him out of his nest. Quackity stumbled, wings flaring weakly to right himself up. The avian let out a shaky breath, leaning heavily on the wall as his head spun. A strength potion would perk him right back up, he just had slept wrong.  _ (he knows this is a lie.)  _

Quackity forces himself to stand,  _ (when did he fall?) _ stumbling towards the ladder. The smell of coffee and eggs fill his nose, momentarily distracting him from the pain in his shoulders. He smiled, hearing Phils laughter ring in the air, followed by a crash of something falling. Taking a deep breath, quackity went through the familiar motions of sliding down the ladder, the task feeling far too difficult to accomplish. 

“BIG Q!” Tommy shreaked, quackity wincing at the ring in his ears. A mug was pressed into his hands from techno, steaming coffee with a  _ little  _ too much creamer. Quackity smiled weakly, a wing coming up to tiredly boop technos arm before falling limp onto the floor. 

“Hey phil, what brings you here?” Quackity chirps, ignoring the concerned looks shot his way. He takes a sip of coffee, humming as it soothes his throat. 

“Just came to visit, how have you been?” Phil responds, munching on a piece of toast. Quackity shrugs, the motion making his head spin unpleasantly. 

“Well enough, Techno’s not a terrible roommate.” He jabbed playfully, earring a whack on his shoulder.  _ (it hurt more than it should’ve.) _

“You sure you're alright? You look a bit sickly there.” Phil said casually. Quackity waved him off, rolling his eyes. 

“You saying i'm ugly old man?” He dodged the question. His wings had gone tense on his back, perfectly still. A new wave of dizziness slammed into quackitys head, making the room spin wildly.  _ (coffee seemed a lot less appetizing. He heard people talking.) _

_ (who was talking?) _

Quackity stood up suddenly, eyes squeezed shut as he stumbled out of the room.  _ (everything was too much. The lights were too bright and the air was suffocating.)  _

_ ……… _

_ (why did he run?) _

The avian blindly grabbed a jacket, slipping into his boots and darting out the door before anyone could even blink in the kitchen. The winter air was biting, contrasting against his sweaty skin. Quackity hyperventilated, panic mixing with sickness into a horrible beast of pain and fear, forcing him forward into the pine trees and snow. He felt numb, cotton replacing his muscles and wood his bones, blood sloshing freely out of his veins.  _ (he cant see clearly. Where was he?) _

Quackitys chest stuttered, like his very ribs where trying to rip past his skin, sending the bird to the floor. Snow and sticks dug into his hypersensitive skin, feeling like hot pokers. Nausea pooled in his throat, dangerously climbing up his neck.  _ (nothing came out, leaving him dry heaving in the snow.)  _ Quackity hacked, biting his tongue like it would stop all of this terrible shaking.  _ (he was tired but he couldn't stop shaking. Why was he still moving?)  _

Fingers clawed at his feathers, stress driving his hands into fistfulls of soft golden down and bloody nails. The pain was grounding, but made him shake even harder.  _ (it was frustrating. Why was he shaking so bad?)  _

he plucked more feathers. _ (Blood pooled in his mouth.) _

Hands held his wrists still.  _ (it was Schlatt. Why was Schlatt here?)  _

_ (he's dead.) _

Schlatt was dead. _ (was quackity dead?)  _ someone was talking to him.  _ (he could smell alcohol and the smokes Schlatt liked.) _ someone was holding him, hand pressing his head to their chest. A heart beat.  _ (he ate Schlatt’s heart.)  _

this wasn't Schlatt. _ (then who was it?)  _

==================================================================

Technoblade breathed heavily in a panic as he searched the forest, sword clutched in his hands as he scanned the ground for any sign of Quackity. He couldn't have gone far. 

A loud whine rippled in the air, followed by distressed chirps and the sound of something ripping. _ (his heart stopped beating.) _

He followed the sound.  _ (he wished he didn't.)  _

Blood and feathers decorated the snow, a morbidly beautiful mix of gold and crimson on white. Quackitys wings arched in the air, covering his form as he curled up against a tree. His fingers were dug deep into his own feathers, yanking them out harshly. 

Technoblade rushed over, sliding to his knees in front of him.  _ (his prized sword thumped on the ground, forgotten.) _ the piglins numb fingers gently restrain quackitys hands, earning a broken sounding trill. His skin was cold, trembling in his hands.

Techno pulled the avain into his lap, wrapping him in his cloak, hand pressed on the back of his head. Hands clutch his back, desperately searching for ground as another broken sob ripped passed quackitys throat.  _ (the flutter of someone's wings filled the air as Phil landed by techno, questions on his lips, but stopped by the form tightly held in technos arms. A sad trill sang in the air as he settled by his son, wrapping them both up in dark feathers.)  _


	3. Platonic/can be seen as romantic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno burn out, as requested by TipsyWhiskers!! a lil bit short, so sorry for that-

Technos ears rang, explosion after explosion rendering his hearing... sub-par. The familiar motions of placing the bed down carefully, piling rubble between himself and the bed before setting it off automatic and thoughtless as he treks over to mine some newly exposed netherite. The netherrack squished unpleasantly under his boots, feet aching something fierce after how many hours of mining away. Techno duly ignored the pain, instead reaching for another bed in his inventory. 

Empty.  _ (should he head home?) _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_ (not yet.) _

Sighing, techno reached for his ender chest, stowing away the netherrite. He still needed to get more gold, he was running out for golden apples. Tiredness tugged his eyes, quickly shaken off with a grunt as Techno leaped up the rudimentary stairs to reach the surface. 

His eyes scan the nether rack for the shine of gold, walking  _ (stumbling-) _ over to mine it with his silk touch pick. His muscles shook with the effort, fingers straining from around the pickaxe.  _ (he hurt.) _

Technoblade forced himself to mine more and more, breaking down his brain to go on autopilot. The portal was a few feet away,  _ (when did he get to the portal?)  _ the purple swirls of magic licked at the air, roaring in technos deaf ears. Techno leaned over to grab a piece of gold he dropped, almost collapsing from the effort it took.

_ (go home.) _

_ (go home.) _

_ (Birdy's worried.) _

_ (go home) _

_ (For once, techno listened to the screaming in his head)  _

He felt himself falling through the frame of obsidian, then nothing as he finally shut down. 

==================================================================

  
  


Quackity was worried.  _ (terrified-) _ Techno went out regularly, yes, but never for more than a dozen hours.  _ (it had been a day.)  _ He was worried. _ (where was he?) _

.

.

.

_ (find him.)  _

Quackity pulled himself off the couch, slipping on his oversized jacket for the snow and sliding into his boots. After a thought, he grabbed his sword as well.  _ Just in case _ , he reasoned. Taking a breath, Quackity slammed the door behind him, spread his wings, and flew. The air was nippy but still, allowing him solace from his worry. Snow would be difficult to work through. The nether portal stook out like a sore thumb, black and purple on the white snow and yellowed grass. His heart stuttered in his chest.  _ (Why wasn't he moving?) _

Dipping into a dive, Quackity angled his wings to quickly swoop down right by the fallen body. Snow flew in the air as he stumbled, soaking through his pants as he fell to his knees. Technos crown layed discarded, half buried a few inches away. The avian quickly hauled up the limp form, grunting from the weight.  _ (He was passed out.) _

Quackity spread his wings once again, struggling to be airborne for a few moments. 

_ (he tried to convince himself the liquid dripping down his arms wasn't blood.) _

==================================================================

Techno didn't wake for the entire trip home, perfectly limp in Quackitys arms. Even when the hybrid landed and nearly dropped him he stayed asleep, silence loud in the still air.  _ (he regretted praising the stillness before.) _ Kicking the door open, quackity placed techno on the couch, beginning to strip him of his armour. 

Blankets found their way from the attic, quackity basically remaking his nest in the living room.  _ (he was allowing himself comfort, indulging in the belief of safety in a nest.)  _

He quietly tugged a still limp techno into the nest, letting his wings drape over his body as he cuddled beside him. Worry still strung in his chest, barely sated by the form beside him, safe and mainly uninjured.  _ (he patched the cut on technos arm, thankfully shallow.)  _


	4. romantic/can be seen as platonic PT 1 bc this bitch long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tommy gets hurt D: Oh no!   
> MASSIVE GORE WARNING:   
> blood  
> stiches  
> infections  
> limb loss  
> ect   
> YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Quackity enjoyed the slow days, where there was nothing to do but sit around and relax the hours away. Said days were regretfully rare, Techno often finding something to take up the sun's time in the sky. 

_ (It just ended up making the slow days all the more satisfying.) _

Quakcity hummed happily from where he layed in his nest, putty under technos lazy hands carding through his feathers. They had decided to hang about in the attic, the domestic feel smothering and sweet as they cuddled. Quackity couldn't quite name the position, mind far to hazy to tell where his body began and technos ended. The air was slightly nippy, chilled from the snow gently falling outside and permitting the room. Quackity snuggled a little closer to the piglin, relishing the warmth that radiated off his skin. The avian scrunched his nose at the harsh cold on his side facing away from the piglin, wiggling in an attempt to try and heat up. 

Techno snorts in irritation, tugging the other hybrid closer and holding him tight to stop him from moving. Quackity trills softly, relaxing further in his grip with a deep breath.  _ (he smelled like fire and... apples?) _

Quackity let his wings flutter softly before settling over technos shoulders, a low purr echoing between their chests. 

Technoblade tensed. His grip tightened, nails digging into quackitys back, making him arch away from the touch. Confusion rang in his ears and just before he spoke- he heard it as well. soft rustling, the sound of footsteps and something being dropped. Quackity sent techno a slightly panicked look, glancing at the ladder that led down. Technoblade didn't hesitate, pulling away and hoping out of the nest quickly to go to the ladder. The avian quickly scrambled after him, not a word exchanged between them. 

“Tommy?” _ (why did he sound so broken?) _

“What are you doing here?”  _ (why did he sound mad?) _

“I... I don't..”  _ (why did he sound so scared?)  _

“Tommy…”

A horrified intake of breath. 

_ “Why are you covered in blood?”  _

==================================================================

Tommy breathed heavily from where he stood, frozen solid, blood finding its way down his arms. 

“I…” He stammered, mind blanking for an answer.  _ (quackity didn't need one.)  _ Quackity rushed forward, clutching his face and checking it for wounds.

“Where are you bleeding?” He demanded, brown eyes searching as he turned his face wichway and that for injuries. His wings flared behind him almost broodily, fluffing up. 

“Techno, go get the med kit.” Quackity ordered, not looking as said piglin. After a moment, he added on “and an instant health.” Techno nods, dipping down another ladder in search of the med box. Tommy spluttered, yelping as quackity shoved him onto a couch. His back flared, white spots decorating his vision from the pain. The avain snapped to attention at the sound Tommy made, trilling in irritation before turning Tommy around gently. 

Tommy didn't even flinch at the sound of his clothes being cut off, brain hazy with pain he didn't realize was there before.  _ ( he didn't see quackity gape in horror at the blood nubs on his shoulders, blood soaked down barely clinging to the teens skin.)  _

==================================================================

Quackity swallowed back a curse, shaky fingers pulling away cloth from Tommy's back. Fury bubbled up from his stomach, hot and seething as he glared at the two nubs of exposed bone on tommys shoulders. ( _ wing joints. His wing joints were poking out of his back.)  _

Quackity suppressed his nausea, instead beginning to clean up the blood with a wet cloth. Skin peeled from burns he didn't want to know the origin of, puss leaking from the open wounds.  _ (He was supposed to be safe in exile.) _ anger climbed its way up his throat, unfiltered and raw for every flinch and every whine of pain slipping past tommys lips. Quackity didn't even notice technoblade settling beside him until the med kit was passed into his lap, an instant health sitting on top of the box. Quackity gulped, taking out the needle and thread needed to stitch up the gaping holes in Tommy's back. 

_ (The first stitch is always the hardest.) _

Tommy let out a screech, attempting to scramble away as the needle smoothly went through his skin. Techno quickly lept up to restrain him, muttering reassurances into deaf ears as quackity laced the needle into his flesh again.  _ (He forced himself to think that this wasn't tommy, sixteen year old tommy, whose wings were ripped from his back and gone god knows where.)  _

==================================================================

  
  
  


_ (hes gonna fucking murder dream.) _

“It's ok, love, you're ok, that's it. That's all we had to do. You're done.`` Quackity yanked his hands away from Tommy's back as he ties off the stitch, soothing words slipping past his lips. He earned a broken sounding whine in response, technos hands rubbing over the teens arms as he rumbled comfortingly. Quackity uncorks the instant health, pouring it over tommy's cleaned back, watching in morbid fascination as his skin stitches itself back together and the burns heal. Quackity sighs, letting himself fall against technos side tiredly. Tommy whines again, techno just nuzzling into his freshly cleaned hair. 

“Tommy… who cut off your wings?” the avain whispered, letting his eyes slide shut. He was desperately trying to suppress the instinct to make a nest to put tommy in, fingers clenching and unclenching on technoblades cape. 

Tommy didn't respond for a few moments, just breathing calmly. 

“Dream got mad that i jumped off the tower and flew onto the ground.” 

Tommy spat out the words, head buried into technos chest. Quackitys eyes twitch. 

==================================================================

When Tommy fell asleep, neither of the two hybrids talked for a long while. Quackity was breathing deeply, trying to wrangle back his anger and panic. Tommy had been situated on the couch, techno pacing a hole into the floor. 

“You'll run holes into the ground if you dont settle.” Quackity mumerd, twiddling a feather between his fingers. 

“I  _ can't _ settle quacks. Tommy's- he- dream-” Techno stumbled over his words, hands coming up to grip his hair as he cut himself off with a snarl. “No way in hell is he going back.” He finished. 

“He's not going back.” Quackity reassured, dropping the feather and standing, shuffling over to give the piglin a half hug. Techno pressed into it, letting his head hang to fall on quackitys. “We won't let dreams get to him.” He promises. The avian bites his lip for a moment, contemplating his next words. 

“Lets move the nest down here, yeah?” he hums, pulling away slightly. Techno contemplates it, but finally nods. He wandered off to grab new sheets, the nest had to be much bigger in order to hold all three of them. 

Quackity trills slightly in amusement, giving Tommy one last once over before leaping up the ladder. 

The avian tore the nest apart, dragging the blankets over to the hole in the ground and dropping them down. Quackity scanned the room again, eyes settling on technos old cape he let quackity keep.  _ (he snatched it up before dropping down the ladder.) _


	5. Pt 2 Tommy focus bonus chapter because i enjoy hurting you all :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BIG BIG WARNING!!!!  
> heavy gore is depicted here.  
> Please do not take this warning lightly!!!

When Tommy broke into Technoblades house, he didn't expect to be found so quickly. Perhaps it hadn't been his brightest idea breaking in, but could you blame him? His mind was hazy with pain and the fever of infection, every movement taxing and every sound ringing in his ears. 

When Quackity had grabbed his face, not as a show of dominance but as a worried, caring gesture, Tommy  _ broke _ . He let himself fall limp in the avian's arms, objects of varying worth clattering onto the ground as he let his arms loosely wrap around Quackity. A deep pain shot in his back as quackity swapped his hands to hold him upright, but Tommy ignored it.

_ (it felt safe. When was the last time Tommy was truly safe?)  _

He allowed himself to be carried over to a surface, to be flipped over onto his stomach and his tattered shirt to be torn off, Just as long as warm careful hands trailed on his skin with no ill intent. 

The needle going through his skin was like a dream hitting him with a torch all over again. Tommy didn't hear the scream leaving his throat, only feeling the vibrations as hot hot pain shattered his brain into pieces.  _ (he didn't hear the apologies and reassurances spilling out of their mouths.) _ Tommy vaguely felt himself being restrained and soft mummers floating in the air, only letting out a choked sob as the needle went into his skin again. He felt whoever was holding him purr, soft vibrations soothing his ache and calming his mind, only further relaxing when trills and coos filled the room. 

_ (he whimpered as quackity started on the other wound.)  _

“It's ok, love, you're ok, that's it. That's all we had to do. You're done.” Quackitys voice pierced through the haze in Tommy's mind, but only received a broken whine in response. Tommy felt the cool familiar sensation of a health potion being poured onto his back, falling limp further into technos arms as the pain ebbed away into very dull pins and needles. He could feel quackitys cool feathers gently resting over his back, soothing the feverish feel, arms carefully wrapping around his waist to settle atop technos own arms. Soft coos echoed in Tommy's ears, his brain reflexively attempting to put Tommy to sleep from them.  _ (he remembers Phil making the same sounds, bird songs ringing and ridding off tommy's nightmares for the night.)  _

(BIG GORE WARNING! See trigger warnings in the notes.) 

Tommy liked the feeling of air weaving between his feathers. He was not allowed to fly in the SMP, but, well. It said nothing about falling and catching yourself with your wings. Tommy breathed in the cold air, allowing the familiar feeling to cradle his broken mind. Nothing mattered in the air when you fell, wind far too loud to allow you to hear and your skin freezing to your bones, numb. 

Tommy let his wings umbrella before he hit the ground. Pressure yanked him back upward from the sudden change in pace, feeling almost like going up and down an elevator. A smile tugged his cracked and bleeding lips, exhilaration singing in his veins despite not actually flying. 

And then his heart stopped in his chest as Dream slowly clapped from under a tree.  _ (when did dream presence initiate fear out of him?) _

“Love that displays Tommy, but…” His voice trailed teasingly, standing from his position under the foliage. “You know that's against the rules?” His tone did not enact a question, so Tommy didn't answer it.  _ (not like he could.)  _

_ (could he?) _

“I didn't fly.” Tommy shifted in place, wings fluttering on his back indignantly. Dream twitched, just slightly, before suddenly clapping his hands together. 

“I suppose you're right, tommy.” he said with far too much cheer, dropping his arms before placing them on tommys back, pressing him forwards into a stumble. “Well, i suppose i'll let it go for now. Question though.” He hummed, tilting his hooded head, mask gleaming in the light. Tommy walked slightly behind Dream out of habit, nodding his head at the question.  _ (he wasn't supposed to speak unless directly asked to.)  _

“How do you like your chicken?” Dream asked, tone innocent. His hand pressed a little harder on tommys back before falling.  _ (was he imagining things, or did it almost try and grab one of his wings?)  _

“Deep fried. tubbo always used to make garlic chicken wings before pogtopia.” Tommy muttered, not allowing himself to look at the mask. Dream was probably making chicken for dinner as a treat tonight, because he liked cooking.  _ (would tommy be allowed to eat as well?) _ Dream nodded and walked a little faster towards Longdishire, forcing Tommy to speed up as well. 

Tommy shifted his wings, rustling the feathers uncomfortably.    
“Can I fix your wings for you tommy? I am your friend after all, they look so ugly right now.” Dream says worriedly, placing a soft hand on tommys shoulder. Tommys bird chittered suspiciously in his chest, but was smothered by the quick bloom of hope and joy at the prospect. No one had groomed his wings in ages! 

“Sure!” Tommy chirped happily, allowing his wings to fluff up and brush dreams wrist softly. He could almost imagine Dream's warm smile under his mask, he just cared so much about how Tommy felt…  _ (the mask covered the sour grin stretching his eyes.) _

Longdeshire peaked from over the trees, rugged stone paths clicking under dreams boots. 

Tommy eagerly pulled out two rugged chairs from the campfire, setting them up correctly. Dream curiously watched him, head tilted almost puppy like. Tommy internally giggled at the comparison,  _ both of them were a man's best friend! _

He situated himself backwards on a chair, crossing his arms over the back and resting his head on his hands. He forced back a wince and spread his wings, still feeling the ache from catching himself so harshly earyler. 

A pleased sigh left tommys lips as Dreams hand stroked his primaries. His fingers were gentle, _ admiring, _ straightening feathers correctly. A low coo left his throat when Dream removed a lost feather, letting his wings press harder into Dreams fingers. 

And then dream yanked another feather. 

“WoAH WOAH DREAM-” Tommy shreaked, head whipping around. “Dont pull feathers!” He yelled, but froze.  _ (why did he raise his voice?) _

“Sorry Tommy, this one was broke.” Dream said softly, holding up a bent feather as an example. Tommy went lax, sighing. 

“Oh, I'm sorry dream. You scared me for a moment. Just warn me next time please.” Tommy begged, guilty at his reaction. He settled back into his chair, reluctant wings spreading. He forced down the instinct to run, reassuring himself that  _ Dream  _ _ cared, _ _ he was just getting rid of something broken. Dream was his friend and would never hurt him.  _

_ (sometimes, tommy wished it was true.)  _

Dream didn't warn him the second time he pulled a feather. Nor the third. 

Or the fourth. 

The fifth feather was a primary Tommy was sure wasn't broken.  _ (family feathers don't break.)  _ Dream struggled pulling that one, unable to dig it out of his skin. Tommy hissed in pain as Dream finally let go, giving up on the feather. It was now crooked, a little bit of blood beading at the base. 

“You can't pull out primaries.” Tommy croaked as Dream tried another. He stuffled a yell when Dream sharply yanked the incoming feather. 

“Why?” He sounded mad.  _ (Why was he mad?) _

“It's a family feather, or a blood feather. You dont-'' tommy bit his lip hard, feeling the horrible searing pain in his wing where dreams fingers dug in his down. “You can't pull them out because they're connected to the bone.” 

Dream hummed, a slightly irritated tone.  _ (Tommy was too scared to get angry at the pain he caused.) _

“Lay down on the ground.” Dream ordered, Tommy shakily standing to obey. 

Dream sat on his lower back, tommy wheezing from the weight.

“If i can't get rid of your ugly feathers, i'll just get rid of the wings altogether.” Dream laughed, holding down a now struggling tommy. 

He screamed when a blade pressed to tommy's back. He struggled more fervently, yelling and screeching at the top of his lungs as the blade rubbed his wing joint until it broke the skin. 

“DREAM, DREAM PLASE-” Tommy yowled, a shriek ripping his throat to shreds as the knife dug deeper. “PLEASE NO NO NO-” He sobbed, tears tracking down his face as the blade  _ sawed _ into his bone. Dream yanked his wing up for a better angle, earning another scream of pain. The knife struggled to break the bone, until Dream finally gave up and got rid of it. Tommy wailed in relief as the knife was removed.

And then he screamed again when Dream snapped his wing in half. It was like fire being laced under his skin with ice, temperatures meddling his brain into a pain filled mush. 

“DRE-drea-” Tommy choked, shaking, stars decorating his vision from pain. Hot, searing, like a firework as the sharp blade cut through the rest of tommys skin. 

“One.” Dream counted calmly, tossing the bloody appendage to the side. Tommy sobbed, another wing flapping weakly. 

He could only cry harder and whimper as Dream grabbed his other wing. 

“Two.” 

And then he passed out.  _ (at least it felt like it did.)  _

The pain was floaty, drifting softly above his body. He didn't  feel it like he knew it was there, sharp and demanding of attention he can't give. 

He knew Deam was burning him with something, but he couldn't tell what.

_ (cauterizing the wounds.)  _

_ (“its not your time to die.”)  _

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! If you want to send a request for a one shot, explain what you want in the comments and ill respond to work things out as you want them. have a pleasant day!


End file.
